The Dark Dyad (Tom Riddle & ofc)

Chapter 2. Fixed idea

June 2, 1938

Thursday

Eight-thirty. Breakfast was on schedule. The dining room on the first floor was small but bright because of several windows. That's probably why I liked to have breakfast there. The breakfast itself was, of course, disgusting, but the rays of the morning sun were beautiful. Since my room's window overlooked a dull brick wall, I valiantly reclaimed this area from the other guys. Since then, nobody has sat at that table.

A line of kids slowly moved from the small sink to the window where Miss Blair was. She smiled good-naturedly and served food. So, I took my tray, greeted a more sensible person than Mrs. Cole, and was already turning in the usual direction when I saw that the new girl had taken my place.

What the hell?

I debated for a moment whether to drive her away or just stay and sit by her. I instantly knew the response was in my head: no, this is my space; go find another one. I walked confidently to the table, determined to come into conflict if the situation called for it.

"Hi, Tom!" Irene spoke first. She didn't sound happy, but she didn't sound aggressive either. "Place is free. Sit down."

"Actually, it's my place," I said calmly, drilling a hole in her forehead with my eyes. Her forehead was the only place on her face that was visible to me; everything else was hidden behind the large iron mug, like a knight's visor, from which she sipped her tea.

I sat opposite. Irene put the mug on the table and continued, "You can sit with me." After a moment's silence, she stuck an aluminum spoon into the porridge and then added, "If you don't ask stupid questions, of course."

"I wasn't going to talk to you," I said coldly. That was my silent attempt to send her to hell gently, without attracting attention. Then I defiantly started my breakfast.

Who the hell are you? To give you any special attention! A wave of mild irritation went through my body. I hope she was smart enough to keep her mouth shut because if she said another word, we would get into a fight. That silly girl didn't win that place by the window to come take it for granted, as if it had always belonged to her. Forget it. No way.

"Let's just eat breakfast," Irene spat out sharply and coldly, putting the mug on the table and looking at me for the first time.

I could finally see her face, and I realized her whole appearance was haggard. It seemed that she had not slept for a couple of days. Her black hair gave her an even more gaunt appearance against her dead-pale face. Dull, emerald eyes, shaded by swelling and bruises, looked straight into mine. She waited for my response without blinking. For a split second, she zoned out. I suddenly realized that the pause had dragged on a bit, and my entire attitude of scolding had been replaced with a fixation on the minutiae. I feigned as surprised a look as I could. My reaction was late, but Irene didn't seem an actively thinking person either, at least for now. As if awakening from a short trance, she put her spoon into the tasteless, lumpy porridge and said softly, "I'll sit here, Tom. I don't annoy you with silly questions, and you don't annoy me."

I silently nodded, because there was a point in her words, and it was absolutely unwise to attract Mrs. Cole's attention. It was still hard to resist the urge to strike Irene squarely in the middle of her forehead with a spoon, though! But I was nevertheless acutely aware that the Billy scenario of late remained fresh in everyone's memory.

Then there was a complete immersion in the morning meal, as if it were something fascinating, as long as my eyes didn't slip inadvertently to the new girl. She finished the tasteless porridge faster than I did, got up from the table, and headed away. Instantly, my eyes stuck to the back of the receding figure, much like a tiny iron fragment that clung to the magnet, treacherously slipping out of my hands over and over again. I only went on eating breakfast when Irene disappeared from the shared dining area and went hiding somewhere in the orphanage hallways.